Nasty in the Van

I want you to see me do this.

Saturday night, near midnight. A storefront business in the ghetto. Music plays low from behind the counter, some eighties rap song. They're all looking at me. I look like a total whore. This is the intended effect, but I am embarrassed, and try to cover by acting aloof. This is stupid, counterproductive. This is why I'm standing in the fourth liquor store of the night. I keep losing my nerve, then acting too stuck-up to be approached. I want to do this. So why don't I just do it?

I am second in line, one of four people in this store, the only woman. White girl. The man in front of me is Puerto Rican, middle-aged, sleight. He wears the clothes of a laborer, maybe drywall. He is dusty all over, and wears a painter's cap that comes low on his forehead. He pays for his six pack and glances back toward me as he is handed his change. I can see him focus quickly on my hips, clad in a short, tight black rubber skirt. The rubber is stretchy. This skirt laces up each side from hem to waist, and the laces are wide enough to expose strips of skin nearly six inches wide. These fleshy strips bulge slightly at the black lashings that crisscross them. My lack of panties is obvious. I love this skirt. I made it. It is a very attention-grabbing sort of skirt.

I step up, aware that there is a young man behind me, almost certainly checking out my ass. The stretchiness of this skirt makes my ass look utterly obscene. It jiggles when I move just like it does when I'm naked. The cleft between my cheeks is clear through the rubber. I chose this material because it is shiny and stretchy and very thin. I want my ass to be accentuated. I hope the young man behind me, a tall, thin black boy dressed in an oversized t-shirt and baggy jeans, I hope he is looking at my accentuated rubber-clad ass and licking his lips. His big black juicy lips. That's one of the reasons I drove out to the west side to do this. I want a black boy. Or a man. Whatever. I'm not being political here, I just want to get laid. As I step up, I think I should just turn around and proposition him in some way. Surely he wants to fuck me. But I'm still acting aloof. Stupid. What did you get all dressed up and come out here for?

I step up. Point. Tequila. No, the fifth. I point again, and the old man behind the counter, another Rican, nudges the bottle from the shelf and taps a few fingers on the cash register. Did he see my tit? I'm wearing a little bolero jacket, it matches the skirt. Under this jacket, which is open, my tits are covered, mashed down, by black nylon, thin as a stocking. I've got great big fat tits. I could just tell you that they're big, but that doesn't give as clear a picture. Great big fat tits. They're still set up high now, but they'll sag when I get older. I've seen my grandma, and I inherited these DDD monsters from her, right down to the deep pink areolas big as the bottom of a beer can, and the nipples, ridiculously small. They are conical, like traffic cones. When I pointed to the bottle, the front of the jacket gaped and swung open. Did he see my tit? I want to rake up my stocking top and smash them together for him. But I just hand him a twenty.

He hands me my change. Its too bright in here. That's what it is, I need some shadow to start this thing. I consider dropping some of the change, an excuse to bend over, an excuse to show my cunt to somebody. My cunt is bald as a cue ball, and my skirt is short enough that I wouldn't even have to bend all the way over to give a good full view. I could drop the change, but I don't. Its too bright in here.

I'm walking out now, haphazardly stuffing the change in my little purse while I clutch the bottle in my other hand. I'm mentally kicking myself. Another lost opportunity. My own stupidity. I am going to do this. How many more liquor stores are there on the west side of Chicago? How many more bottles of tequila will I have to buy before I get over being such a goddamn chicken? As I approach the door, as I put my hand on the glass and push, actually, I tell myself that's it, no more screwing around. I tell myself, the next guy. The very next guy.

Because I don't care who it is. All I care is that I'm slumming it. I'm here on the west side, trying to get up the nerve to fuck some random black guy. Black guys, maybe. Nice, ordinary suburban girl like me. I just have to get over being such a stupid chicken. The very next guy.

And here he is. I know he will speak to me the second my eyes rest on him. I'm hardly through the exit door of the liquor store when our eyes meet, but his do not stop at my face, of course. Look at my outfit. I look like a total whore. I've cleared the door and am stepping off the strip of sidewalk that runs next to the building, stepping onto the black tar of the parking lot, when this older man, old enough to be my father, and milk chocolate-colored, speaks. I think, he looks like Scatman Crothers. I am so very conscious of twisting on the ball of my foot to look at him again as he speaks, twisting my foot in the sexy black patent mule that matches the skirt and the jacket. I fling my hip to the side as I turn. As I turn he speaks in a gravelly drawl that sounds like Alabama, or Mississippi.

He says, "Damn, girl. You sho' 'nuff lookin' tight tonight!"

Now I know. I know that men like him speak to women like me all the time. And us women, white women, middle class women, ignore them. He is much older than I had imagined the man I'd pick would be. But age isn't an issue. Or looks or class or any of that stuff. I want a black man, and I want it to be a stranger.

My heart crashing in my chest, I turn on the ball of my sexy foot, thrust out a hip and give him a smile, a dazzling smile. I'm a pretty girl and I know it. I give him my hundred-watt prom picture smile, total innocence and delight. "Hey, thanks!"

He looks mildly surprised. Then he smiles back. "You welcome! You just the sweetest little thing I done seen in a long time!" His smile reveals a missing eyetooth, a gold canine.

With the same smile, the same tone, I say again, "Thanks! That's so nice!" I raise the bottle. "You wanna have a drink with me?" As if the idea has just occurred to me.

Now he looks really surprised. Women like me don't speak to men like him, much less offer to have a drink with them. I cock my head to the side at his hesitation, smile still on my face. He realizes the opportunity.

"Sho' thing! Where you wanna go, baby girl?" I raise the bottle further, gesture to the van, my uncle's van, borrowed for the night. Its parked in the far corner of the parking lot, in the shadows. I had told my uncle I needed to move a desk.

This man raises his eyebrows, looks around at the darkened, empty lot, and faintly shrugs as he starts off toward the van. I know he does not expect to actually drink with me. Women like me don't drink with men like him. I am twenty-six, but I have a child's face. I am nearly always carded at bars and clubs. None of the liquor stores I visited this evening carded me, but I think my skirt was a distraction.

I look young, and well-kept. This man, he is probably near fifty. He is black. He is poor. He wears an army jacket, not the kind with camouflage. Just solid green. It is ragged. His pants are jeans, and his feet are clad in cheap, scuffed work boots. He is tall and broad and his bald head shines in the street light. His whole head is shaved bald. Like my pussy.

He walks next to me, not looking at me, just glancing from the ground in front of us to the van we are approaching. As we walk, he say to the ground, "Yup. That's quite a little ol' outfit you wearin' there."

I stop. We are forty or so feet from the store, less than twenty from the van. It is near midnight. An occasional car rolls by, but it is quiet in the street. I turn to face him, my prom smile still in effect. "You think so? I made it. You really like it?"

He has stopped too, and I can tell he is still unsure of whether he will actually make it to the van. He expects me to change my mind, come to my senses. A nice young white girl like me. We don't get into vans with men like him.

"I picked the fabric and hammered in the grommets for the laces and everything," I'm saying. He is listening, looking at me. I get an idea. "Here." I thrust the bottle at him.

"It doesn't even go like this," I say as I wiggle my hips and twist the low-slung waist. There is the thinnest layer of cotton flocking on the inside of the rubber, so it slides against my skin easily enough. I twist the skirt until the laces are no longer exposing my hips. I twist the skirt until the laces are centered in front and back. The laces are far enough apart that a good six inches of skin is exposed. My naked pussy is framed dead center between a diamond of laces. My heart catches in my throat. I'm doing it! I can feel my ass pushing against the other string of laces. "It really goes like this, but I can't go into a store like this." Still smiling. This man in front of me is doing a very good poker face. Maybe he thinks if he hides his shock, I won't realize what I'm doing. I shrug my jacket off so he can see my smashed-down, big fat titties. My enormous nylon-covered boobs. My tiny nipples tent in the breeze. I cock my hip in a "what do you think" gesture.

Finally he just shakes his head, his eyes glued to my cunt. My bald, split, pink white girl cunt. He says, "My god, my god." I suddenly feel like Miss America. I'm smiling like her.

I start walking again, dragging my jacket behind me. "C'mon. Lets get in the van." I get in front of him so that he can see my ass cheeks mooshing together under the laces as I walk. I'll bet my ass looks good. I'll bet he can't believe his good fortune. He can't even begin to imagine what's going to happen.

We have reached the van, which my uncle thinks I have borrowed to move a desk. I'm supposed to return it tomorrow afternoon. I reach for the handle to the side door, the one that will slide open to reveal the futon I wrestled into place just hours ago. I say, "I'm Daisy. Do you want to tell me your name?" My name isn't Daisy, but I like the sound of it. I don't care what his name is, either. Its just something to say.

He says, "My name is Rutherford Cole, ma'am." Here, as I slide open the door, he looks directly into my eyes, his expression open and curious. "You sho' you wanna get in this van with me? You ain't scared?"

I look right back at him, exuding all the confidence I can muster. I am still smiling. "You sure you want to get in here with me?" I ask him. "Are you scared?" I don't wait for an answer. I climb into the van, aware of how he can see my cunt. After the smallest pause, he climbs in after me. He shuts the door. We are alone.

I am on my knees. We both are. The van ceiling is low. It is quiet. I reach for the bottle. He hands it to me. He is looking at my cunt again. I tell him to have a seat, get comfortable, as I knee-walk toward the front. I have plastic cups on the passenger seat. I hand him one. I open the bottle. I pour a generous amount of tequila into the cup. I hit the bottle against the cup. "Cheers, Rutherford." I swig from the bottle. Rutherford drinks from his cup, never taking his eyes off me. He can see my tits. He can see my cunt. I am not nervous anymore. I am so excited to actually be doing this. I take another swig. "You got a friend you can call to come hang out with us, Rutherford?"

He thinks for a minute. Is he thinking about who he can call to come see this spectacle, this whorey white girl drinking tequila in a van in the liquor store parking lot? Is he thinking if he calls someone, he won't get to fuck me? Does he know how I'm gonna let him fuck me? I'm going to let him fuck me. I am so excited to actually be doing this. He says, "Its just Ford, ma'am."

I laugh. "Ma'am? Okay, I'll call you Ford. But ma'am? Are you going to call me ma'am while I've got the head of your cock lodged in my throat, Ford?" Now he looks shocked. "Because that's where this is going. Ford. You know that, don't you? Ford? This is your lucky day. Look at my tits. Do you have a friend you can call?"

"Yes ma'am. Yes… Daisy. Yes I do." I hand him my cell phone. He dials a number, then returns to watching me as the ringing begins. I can hear it in the quiet of the van. I smile at him, pinch my nipples. He winces, narrows his eyes, then smiles back. The phone is ringing. On the third ring, someone picks up. The voice is just a buzz. I don't try to listen.

His conversation is brief. "Ray-Ray there? Yeah, go get him." Then, "Hey Ray-Ray. You gotta come on out here and meet me. You not gonna believe this shit." While he's talking, I wiggle out of my skirt. His eyes are glued to me. There's a tent in his pants. I raise my eyebrows and renew my smile: surprise! "Yeah, c'mon now, Ray-Ray. I can't tell you nothin'. Just hurry up and come on out. The parking lot next to Boogie Liquors. Hurry up man. Take a shower first, but hurry."

He hands the phone back to me. I toss it onto the front seat. I go from kneeling to sitting on my ass, my legs spread and bent at the knees. He can see my whole pussy. I fucking love this. I lean forward and grab my ankles. My big fat tits strain against the nylon. I can feel the fibers pressing tiny grids into my bubblegum nipples. "That was nice, Ford, but you didn't have to tell him to shower."

"You don't know what kind of mess he might show up in."

"That's okay, though." I stick the first three fingers of my left hand in my mouth and get them all slobbery, then dig them into my cunt. I push my fingers in and out and my pussy makes a squishing sound. "Ford, I'm playing a role tonight. You know what role I'm playing?"

"I think I got a little bit of an idea." He is staring at my hand. He is staring at my pussy. I am rocking my fingers in and out of my fleshy, gooey cunt. He is watching me cram my fingers up my cunt. I am smiling.

"I am playing the role of a filthy fucking whore. A white cunt you and your friend can fill with come. I want to be filthy." Jabbing my fingers in my hole. "I want to be absolutely fucking nasty and dirty and disgusting. Sucking some unwashed, stinky, strange black cock suits me just fine. I don't want to be treated like a good girl." Jab, jab. "How long do you think he'll be?"

"He stay just a couple of blocks from here. Girl, get over here." Ford unzips his jeans. He doesn't unbutton them. Suddenly his cock springs free from his gaping zipper, and I am amazed at the size and shape. Its a nice length, although the base is hidden in his jeans. It is a dark reddish-brown like his face and hands. The girth is what's amazing. Its like a massive chocolate cucumber. I can't wait to get it in me. He grasps it in one hand and reaches for the back of my neck with the other. His eyes search my face for signs of resistance. I pull my fingers out of my hole and obediently allow him to pull me forward. He pulls me by the back of my neck. Pulls my face, my mouth, down onto his amazing, fat cock. His big, fat black cock. I stuff my mouth with his slick head. His piss hole is huge, and I stick my tongue in it quickly right before my mouth is filled too full for me to move my tongue at all. He breathes harder. Pushes my head down. "C'mon now, girl. Get that dick at the back of your throat. That's where you said you want it, huh?" My mouth is full. I can barely breathe through my nose, which is smashed against his zipper. He's not even letting me stroke up and down. He's just gagging me.

I bounce my face on him the little that his grip will allow. This is fucking nasty. I don't even know this man. I am such a whore. I fucking love this shit.

He says, "You know what you got in your mouth girl? You know where I been?" I bounce my face some more. A cock in my throat always makes my pussy wet, and this is so amazing I can feel my ooze on my inner thighs. I move a knee for a more stable position and I feel a gooey spot on the futon. Here I am, naked in a van with some strange black guy's cock stuffed down my throat.

"I been in jail, girl, that's where I been. I been in jail for three years, four months and two days. Just got out ten days ago. I ain't seen no pussy in a looong time. Watch the teeth now. There you go girl. Up and down, up and down, that's a good girl. Good little white girl. Take Daddy's dick." I choke myself on this convict's meat. My pussy is drooling.

He erupts without warning, barely two minutes after pushing my mouth down on him. His cock spasms. His head is still stuffed into the back of my throat. I'm surprised by his load, and I gag at how thick it is, how much of it there is. Its impossible to swallow with my throat lodged open with all this meat. His come coats the inside of my mouth, the roof, my teeth, my tongue, and wells at the corners that my lips make where they come together. Once his cock stops jerking, he releases his grip on the back of my neck and I sit up. I make a disgusting, noisy show of slurping his jizz back into my mouth and swallowing it. I swallow in exaggerated gulps. I am. Eating. His sperm.

Nasty.

I look at him. "That's not all, right?"

He unbuttons his pants. "Girl, you heard me say I been in jail. You give me a minute. I'll get it hard for you again in just a minute." I sit back and dig my hand in my cunt again as he pulls off his jeans. There are no underwear. We are both naked from the waist down. My pussy feels like pudding, I'm so wet. I say, "I've got a couple of ground rules, Ford. I'm going to tell you before your friend gets here, so you can tell him."

"You ain't gonna tell him yourself?" He is watching me playing with my cunt. I pinch my clit. He narrows his eyes and makes a sound, like he's sucking his teeth. He is watching me like a starving man watching a steak dinner.

"I think my mouth's gonna be full again by the time he gets here." I lean up, my hand still buried to the knuckles in my cooze. I give his cock a long, hard lick. It is hard. With my face in his crotch, between licks, I say, "First, I prefer it in the ass. I've got a nice, tight shit hole, but it can stretch out to take a great big cock like yours. You guys can fuck my pussy, and you can fuck my mouth, but just know I love getting fucked in my asshole better than anything else, okay?"

I look up at him. His nostrils are wide. He is a black man. He gives a short laugh. "Ooookay. Whatever you say, baby girl. We gone fuck your ass tonight. Sho' 'nuff."

I slurp his massive helmet into my mouth, then push it back out with my tongue. "Also, I only take come in my mouth. Its a waste for you to shoot it up my cunt or in my ass. I like to taste it. Its a waste to come on my tits. Every time you come, it should go in my mouth. When I go home, I want my belly sloshing with it."

I look up at him again. He's got a wide smile on his face as he watches me push his cock up and out of the way with one hand, while I encircle the base of his scrotum with my other. I pull his black, hairy balls taut and give them a broad, wet lick with my flattened tongue. They taste sweaty, and I am overcome with how nasty what I'm doing is. I don't even know this man. I want to gag and come at the same time.

"Three, I don't want to be treated like a princess." I push his legs wide with my elbows. I suck a ball into my mouth and then spit it out. I don't even know this man. "I got dressed up in this slutty outfit and came out to find some random guy to fuck." I suck his other ball into my mouth, spit. "I don't even know you and I let you come in my mouth. I'm dirty. I want you to treat me like it."

At that, he grabs my hair into a pony tail at the base of my skull. I'm already going to work on his balls, but he seems to enjoy pushing my head around, smearing my face down there on him. I lick and suck, his balls only, while his cock bounces around free. I use my fingers to get them both in my mouth at once. Its a tight fit. His balls are big and fat like his cock. They are hairy and sweaty. I dig slime out of my pussy hole and smear it on his sack. Lick-lick-suck. This is so nasty. My pussy just runs. While my mouth is stuffed full of strange black guy testes, there is a knock on the side of the van.